Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 2 (Third Shift)

[somesoulsearching]

Though Brook had been led the way towards the waiting rooms before, he hadn't been expecting to have another visit so soon. Not everyone seemed to get one after all, and with how upset Yorki's grandson had seemed to be after their last meeting, he'd thought the young man wouldn't have wanted anything more to do with him. Despite all that, he did think seeing Yohan again might be a nice change of pace. He liked making new friends even in places like this.

After entering the room, he looked around for anyone familiar before taking a seat to himself. Like last time he was ready to see what would come but wouldn't be so jumpy as to think his visitor was a ghost. That had been a shock before! But he should have known better. No ghost would have been floating around during the day time.

Comments

[thecamellia]

When her nurse retrieved her at the end of brunch and said she had a visitor, Tsubaki suspected the worst.

At best, the person waiting for her was her--Miyu’s--parents. She had gotten almost comfortable with their visits, and seeing them again wasn’t totally unwanted. They were a piece of home. Something that, in a way, belonged to her and only her and didn’t have to be shared amongst the other prisoners. If her visitor happened to be someone else, though, another person from her life going by a different name like Black☆Star or Maka or Soul… honestly, Tsubaki didn’t know what she would do if she saw them in that sterile waiting room. Their presence would be manageable, however. She thought she could handle such a situation, even if she couldn’t completely fathom it.

But if her visitor was who she thought it was… if it was her brother, following through on Thursday’s letter….

How could she possibly deal with that? How did someone sit down with a ghost from their past and pretend that all was well?

They were the sort of questions that had been plaguing her ever since she’d considered the possibility that Masamune could one day become one of her visitors, and especially since her parents had revealed that a version of him was still alive and well. Now they seemed to be in her throat, clogging her every breath. What if? What if it was him? Finally, after all this time, would she have to face him? A flesh-and-blood figure wearing her brother’s face? And how would he be? What would he do?

What would she do?

Every step closer to the waiting room made her thoughts beat all the more frantically against the inside of her skull. It was all she could do to cling to the remnants of Masamune’s presence inside her, where she knew he must be. But it was harder to take comfort in the demon blade when so many areas of her soul felt out of reach thanks to Landel’s meddling. His reality--the one he had made for her as Miyu--almost felt more tangible than her own when she was so far from home and on a collision course with one of her loved ones. Or at least a version of one of her loved ones.

Still, a version of Masamune that was alive and a part of her family was more than she could dream of. She knew she was on unsteady ground when she found herself wishing that his survival could’ve been the case in her world.

I don’t think I’m ready for this. She wouldn’t ever be ready.

[damned_visitors]

There was nothing in him that was ready for this, and yet it proved to be all that he wanted. Their mother had added his inclination, with no reply to either outcome. Perhaps it was to be expected. Perhaps she hadn't had a chance to write. There was no way to tell. Michio, however, did not waver in his intentions. Their mother kissed him this morning, tears in her eyes, and told him to pass on their love. For it was all they would offer Miyu. All that they could offer her. They would be her strength, until she could again stand.

His foot had not even touched down on the floor of the room when he spotted her, instantly; her familiar posture and coloring a pulsing light in a sea of grays, and he breathed, inhaled--straightened his back and moved to her side. A hand stayed behind his thigh, out of sight, as he greeted her, quietly, with a dignity touching on affection. "Sister."

[thecamellia]

She wished Black☆Star was there. Someone, someone who could stand by her side and tell her what was right in this situation. What the best thing to do was. But there was no guidance forthcoming; she was by herself, alone, and the only advice and encouragement she was going to get was from herself. Knowing as much made it all the more difficult to stay balanced on the tightrope she’d found herself on.

The waiting was, of course, the worst part. All the what ifs and the aborted thoughts. It was almost, almost easier when she looked up from her feet and saw him there, because that at least put an end to her doubts.

But that just left everything that came after the doubts: the shock, the hard beat of her heart, the flood of long-buried emotions.

Brother. You were the one who left.

Strangely enough, the first thought that came to her was that the tall, formidable man walking toward her looked… handsome. Handsome, of all things! The brother she’d encountered with Black☆Star hadn’t looked half so healthy or well-taken care of. That brother had been gaunt and sallow-skinned, hair dull, dirtied. Dark, in all the senses of the word. She’d admired him so much when he’d been a boy, but his adult self had been a far cry from that person she’d known. But this one looked… looked…

Restored. He looked restored.

Landel had shown her visions of her brother, had made shadows whisper about him, but this was by far the most uncanny incarnation. It took her breath to think that this was what Masamune could have looked like had he reached his full potential. She’d been too cowardly to look long at the photos in her photo album, and she felt a twinge of regret at that now. He was so… like Masamune. It hurt. But still, she didn’t blink, didn’t so much as swallow.

The feelings the sight of him brought on seemed to freeze her in place, at least until he stopped. Then Tsubaki turned to face him; this was the instinctive thing to do, the polite thing to do. Propriety even in the face of disaster--that was what she was good at. The little sister he’d hated so much for so long. But the way he spoke to her held no hint of that past, was instead closer to what he’d been like at the end. His tone was perhaps the most alien part of it all.

She didn’t know how to respond. She’d forgotten the appropriate way to address people like him. "… Brother."

[damned_visitors]

There was something off-balance about his sibling, a detail missed without knowing exactly what it was, but he brushed it from his mind. She recognized him. Called him brother in turn. And he would be thankful for that. Michio smiled at her, then moved to the chair opposite. It wasn't until he sat down that he brought his hand up, revealing the solitary flower that he held.

It was a perfectly bloomed camellia, and if not for the faint scent, one could have been forgiven for assuming it was silk. He held it out to her, then asked the least of what was churning within his mind. "How are you?"

[thecamellia]

It was surreal to see such a perfect emulation of Masamune. His voice, his eyes, his stance… all the important, personal details were the same, down to the way he angled his head when he spoke. But his smile, that was different. That was an expression she’d only seen on his face once, right before she’d defeated him, and before that only in childhood. Off the battlefield, a mere glimpse of that same smile rocked her more than she would’ve thought.

There were too many things she hadn’t predicted, things about reuniting with a brother who was supposed to be gone that had the potential to stir old memories.

The camellia was another of those things.

Once he’d brought his hand out from behind his back and exposed it, Tsubaki couldn’t tear her eyes away. There it was, the flower that had, through contention and bitterness, slowly caused their family to fall apart, much like the slow wilting of a camellia. Her namesake. Her flower. And he was holding it out as if expecting her to accept it.

A part of her was sure someone was playing a joke on her, while another part expected Masamune’s mocking disdain to wash over her at any second as it had for most of her life.

It has a nice scent…

Silly how a mere flower could make her feel sick to her stomach.

This time Tsubaki thought for sure she would be rooted to the spot forever, stuck in place while this person who had the face of her brother looked on, still with the flower in his hand. Her lips moved, soundlessly. It seemed like camellias had been at the heart of everything, alongside hurt feelings and unspoken thoughts. What had Miyu’s family been through that tied them to camellias? A similar sad past? Or was their story better?

Whatever she might have been able to will herself to say, it all seemed to dissipate like smoke at the sight of the flower, leaving her staring.

[damned_visitors]

To a casual query, Miyu seemed to be in shock, and for an instant, one and only, Michio wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have come. If it was too soon, despite everything, and this was only making things worse. But she was his sister. And he would not abandon her to be alone in this.

The flower was carefully laid on the table next to the set of chairs, and his hands returned to laying delicately on his knees. Michio watched her--watched and saw all the similarities that said this was the sister he had been close with since her birth, but also saw. Also noticed the differences. This look was... foreign. "Tell me," he spoke, quiet and intent. "Tell me what I can do to help you through this."

[thecamellia]

Even though she was the one standing there, watching him look back at her, she had the feeling of being a million miles away, viewing everything at a distance. It was like looking at something through a series of frosted windows; every glass layer served to blur her focus until what lay beyond was indistinct and incomprehensible.

Masamune was gone, and yet here was someone so like him. Camellias had been a part of her stormy relationship with him, and yet here Miyu’s brother had brought one carefully tended flower for her.

What kind of power could have made this… all of this… possible? It was too much to imagine.

Out of the well of her surprise and turmoil, silence erupted like a geyser. Silence had always been her first impulse when she didn‘t know what to say. Tsubaki supposed she had never been very good at saying aloud what needed to be said--it had been her silent hesitation that had disturbed Masamune so much in the past. He’d valued words, and she had never been able to give him the right ones before he’d left on his quest for self-identity.

The longer she said nothing, the more guilt stung at her. Masamune’s past anger and hurt was absent in the way he looked at her, but Tsubaki couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing it again. What she had done for years. Hurting an older brother with her lack of words.

But perhaps Miyu and her brother were different. Maybe they had had longer to understand one another.

Tell me what I can do.

She looked down for a moment, halting in the face of his intensity. How much of his sister did this brother see? The reverse was also true. How much did she understand about Masamune, the brother she’d barely known?

“You don’t… have to do anything,” she said at last. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. Thank you for the… for the flower.”

[damned_visitors]

The words she gave in the end stung, but not for the reasons one might think. Here, again, his sister was being kind, putting his needs before her own, and here, of all places.... Here, was where she should reach out. And she still wasn't. She was still being strong, all by herself, without bothering another soul. It was lonely. Like this. And he wanted to say that to her suddenly, wanted to tell her how her compassion separated them the way a wall never would. But speaking so bluntly wasn't his way, and saying that here....

"I don't have to do anything," he repeated simply. "And what happened is no one's fault. But Mother and Father and I... We want to support you. We want to be there for you. Maybe it's because we weren't that everything--" He groped for the right words. "...Became so muddled."

He watched her, an edge of pain around his eyes. "It's not a weakness to ask for help." To grasp the hands of those reaching out for you.

He just wanted everything to be okay again. To redefine normal in a way that once again included his beloved little sister.

[thecamellia]

Tsubaki’s lips parted with a feeling that bordered on indecision--or maybe more like surprise. What happened was no one’s fault? Right… right… this family, the one Miyu belonged, had its own cracks and fissures. Its own pain.

But she was right at the center of it, exactly where she wished she wasn’t.

She didn’t know how to the subtle accusation that he and his family might not have supported her in the way that she needed because she didn’t remember. Her memories told a very different story, and no matter what she did Tsubaki didn’t think they would ever line up. But she and Miyu… they couldn’t be so different, could they? Neither of them could see a brother in pain and not feel hurt on his behalf, right? If they were versions of each other, there was no way, no way that they could.

And yet Tsubaki was still a piece that didn’t fit quite right. She couldn’t tell him what he needed to hear any more than she could read minds. Even so, to sooth his pain… that was a desire she and her counterpart had to share. Maybe that harmony would help.

“No, I don’t think it’s that…” she tried to say. “I don’t think you need to blame yourselves for not being there. That’s not something you should ever think.” Not in her case, anyway. Tsubaki had always known her family would be there when she needed them--even if ‘family’ had only meant her mother and father.

Asking for help, though… He was talking about pride, but the problem was that Tsubaki, the girl known as Tsubaki, didn’t need help. Pride and compassion weren’t the issues.

“I…”

With her eyes on her slippers, she could see Masamune’s shoes where they extended out past his chair. Shiny and neat. He’d always had a certain air of neatness about him, probably from years of lectures on fastidiousness or so she’d thought. “I…”

Maybe it was about time to time to answer his earlier question.

“I’m doing okay.” This was the truth at the heart of things--why she didn’t need the kind of help the day staff were offering. She did okay until her family was brought into the picture. That’s when everything started to turn in confusing circles.